


Meet the Family

by UP2L8



Series: Sex Shop AU [7]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, a bit of angst, beware of meddling, that one's for you hanaji
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 09:37:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17640299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UP2L8/pseuds/UP2L8
Summary: That said, the fact remained that Roy’s baby had let him down, and he was stranded in a blizzard. He had to accept it, and admit that there was no other choice but to see if Ed’s offer of a couch for the night was still on.





	Meet the Family

**Author's Note:**

> This one's been sitting around too long, so it's getting posted. Please let me know about any typos. Enjoy. 😊

Edward sprinted up the stairs to the third floor, grinning from ear to ear. When he reached the top, he stopped. He needed to dial back the rush he was experiencing before he went into the apartment. He couldn’t let Al and Winry see him this way. They were far too observant. If they saw him this pumped and found out that Roy had driven him home, they’d know something had happened. Between the two of them, they would use the objective data and extrapolate, and then they’d work on Ed in tandem until they got all the details. 

Nope. 

For now, the kiss he had shared with Roy was something he wanted to hold private, something to treasure, something he could take out and appreciate just for himself. Later, if – no, he was pretty sure it was going to be _when_ – he and Roy had spent more time together, when they knew each other better, when this relaxed happiness was more familiar, he might be inclined to share how Roy made him feel with Al and Winry. For now, he wanted to selfishly guard these intimate moments. 

It wouldn’t be hard. 

It would be damn near impossible. 

Ed had to compose himself. Standing on the third-floor landing, he took a few deep breaths to calm down, and considered how he was going to play this. 

It was okay to go in looking happy. He was home, when he had been fully prepared to spend the night at Pothos Boutique sleeping on furniture not designed for sleeping. That warranted a measure of cheerfulness. 

They would want to know how he had gotten home. Should he admit that Roy had showed up out of the blue and offered him a ride? Tough call. If he simply said a friend had driven him, they would want to know who, and Ed wasn’t a good enough liar to pull off full-frontal fabrication on the two people closest to him. So. The simple truth. Roy had shown up. Offered a ride. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. Ed had accepted. 

He wouldn’t mention the blackout. It was impossible to think about it without calling to mind the search for the flashlight he had dropped, and finding Roy in the darkness, and how a strong arm had folded around his shoulders, and how he had been drawn in close, and how Roy’s lips had felt against his. Their first kiss, and yeah, fireworks, as cliché as that had always sounded to Ed. Never mind that Roy had quickly pulled away. He had done it for the right reasons. 

And Roy had certainly made up for it in the parking lot. 

And _now_ Ed had a euphoric grin to tamp down too. Which was why mentioning the power outage would be a tactical error. 

He walked down the hall to his apartment like he was navigating a minefield. Pulling out his keys, Ed took a few more deep, calming breaths, pasted on what he hoped was a suitable happy-to-be-home smile, squared his shoulders, and unlocked his door. 

Al was craning his head around from his position on the couch, snuggly cocooned in the comforter from his bed with the cat curled up in the near vicinity of his lap. Winry was leaning out of the kitchen with a wooden spoon in her hand. Three pairs of eyes were staring at Ed. 

“Brother!” Al cheered. “I thought you were going to ride out the storm at the shop!” Then he frowned. “You didn’t walk home, did you? I told you I’d be fine on my own for however long it would take Winry to pick you up.” 

“I’m not an idiot, Al,” Ed said testily, and chose to ignore the skeptical expression on both Al’s and Winry’s faces. Ed continued, affecting nonchalance. “Roy showed up and offered me a ride.” 

“Roy did?” Winry had automatically gone into analysis mode. Shit. “How did that happen? He lives in the Beaches." 

Ed toed off his boots and put them in the boot tray. “He heard the busses weren’t running and came to get me.” 

Al and Winry exchanged glances. The cat purred. Ed continued to shrug out of his winterwear, a considerable quantity of melting snow showering off it to the floor. He hoped it would provide a distraction. 

No such luck. 

“That was awfully nice of him,” Al said, grinning. 

“Yes, awfully,” Winry agreed, coming out of the kitchen with a slight frown and her arms crossed. 

“You should have invited him in,” Al admonished, still grinning. 

“I did,” Ed defended. “He decided to head for home instead.” 

“Smart man,” Winry murmured. 

Ed chose to ignore that comment too. Finally free of his winter vestments, he walked into the living room proper and flopped himself into the armchair across from the sofa, reaching to plug his phone into the charger by the end table. The cat, who Al had named Bandit but who Ed insisted on calling Colonel McSlashy Hands, jilted Al and sashayed over to stake his claim on Ed’s lap instead. 

“How’s it going Colonel?” he said, giving his full attention to scritching behind the purring feline’s ears. “Shredded any good books lately?” 

Al hadn’t fallen for Edward’s lame evasive maneuvers since he was three, and Ed’s demeanor suggested that he was hiding something. “How was your evening, Brother? What time did Monica leave? Did you get any customers before Roy arrived to rescue you?” 

“It was quiet,” Ed said, feeling Winry’s eyes boring into the back of his head. “Monica left at about two o’clock, so she could make it in time to pick up her kids from school. I only had three sales all afternoon.” Ed’s eyes were on the Colonel, stroking soft black fur while half hooded buttery eyes gazed up at him. He could do this. He could keep it together. 

“Did the power go out at the store?” Winry asked. “We were blacked out for about twenty minutes.” 

Ed flushed a deep, fiery red from head to toe. 

He shot out the chair, dumping the cat in the process. “I need a shower,” Ed told them as he abandoned ship. 

“Will it be a cold one?” Winry called after him.

~0~

Roy sat in his rapidly cooling car, staring at his phone. The Roadside Assistance Association he subscribed to had basically told him to go pound snow down a rathole. They weren’t going to send a tow truck until the roads were cleared, and that probably wouldn’t be until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. All three of the cab companies Roy had called were not answering. Lyft and Uber were quoting fees roughly equivalent to the annual Gross Domestic Product of Tuvalu, and even then, couldn’t promise an ETA sooner than three hours. Any friend Roy called would likely take at least as long to get here. He would be frozen solid by then. 

Roy tried to start his Mustang one last time. 

Nothing. Roy leaned his forehead against the steering wheel. “I forgive you,” he whispered to the car. 

That said, the fact remained that Roy’s baby had let him down, and he was now stranded in a blizzard. He had to accept it, and to admit that there was no other choice but to see if Ed’s proposal of a couch for the night was still on. 

Roy fired off a text.

<My car just died. Can I take you up on your offer?>

A few minutes passed, and as the car grew colder, he decided to call. 

“Hello?” a vaguely familiar, female voice answered. 

Roy checked the contact pic to make sure he had called the right number. Sure enough, the dry smile Ed had offered him when Roy took his picture – at East Side Mario’s on their first official date – confirmed it.

“Hello,” Roy said. “I’m sorry to disturb you. I’m calling for Edward Elric.” 

“Who is this?” 

“Roy Mustang.” 

“Oh,” the stranger said brightly. “You’re listed as ‘Bastard’ in his contacts.” 

“Inside joke,” Roy explained without explaining. 

“Ed’s in the shower,” the voice told him. “Can I take a message?” 

Well this was awkward. “Actually, I’m in a bit of a fix,” Roy admitted. “I’m still parked in front of the building. My car won’t start, and it looks like I won’t be able to get home tonight. Ed suggested-” 

“Come on up. Apartment 310.” 

So far so good. Roy left the frosty calm of the car to brave the freezing, wind whipped walkway to Ed’s apartment building. 

Gaining the shelter of the entryway was a definite relief. Roy had not realized just how cold he had gotten, sitting in his dead car. The short distance to the building also saw a substantial amount of snow coating Roy’s head and shoulders, and he glanced out toward his car, hoping he was leaving her in a safe place. It wouldn’t be easily visible for much longer. 

The quiet sounds of other peoples’ lives followed Roy down the hall to apartment 310. He knocked. The door opened. 

And Ed’s self-proclaimed bestie of Fat Bastard Burritos fame stood beaming in the doorway. Roy wondered if it was too late to beat a hasty but graceful retreat. 

“Don’t just stand, there! Come on in!” The blond girl’s grin was feral as she stepped aside and motioned for Roy to enter. 

Completely empty the living room still would have appeared small. Crammed with overstuffed furniture it was tiny and cramped, but cozy. Three large armchairs and a big comfy couch clustered around a sturdy, well-used coffee table, with mismatched end tables arranged between them for convenience. Lounging on the sofa was a brightly smiling young man with eyes almost the same shade of gold as Edward’s, but it was difficult to determine if there was any other resemblance. The young man was wrapped from chin to toe in a pale blue comforter, and he was wearing a blue and white baseball cap that did little to conceal the fact that he was completely bald. A lanky black cat was sitting pretty in his lap. 

Roy left his boots on a plastic tray by the door. The girl took his coat and ushered Roy to the chair across from the couch. He sat. 

“Oh my,” the young man said. “You’re much more handsome than your profile picture.” 

Roy wasn’t sure how to respond to that without asking which profile, so he decided not to. Instead, he leaned over and reached out his hand. “Roy Mustang. Nice to meet you.” 

The hand that snaked out from under the covers and took Roy’s was thin, but the grip was firm and the hand was warm. “Alphonse Elric. Brother tries not to talk about you but ends up talking about you a lot.” 

Roy couldn’t help but grin. “I have heard a lot about you too,” he said. Then he turned to the blonde girl, expecting an introduction as well. 

He didn’t get one. 

“You drove all the way over here in a blizzard to pick Ed up and drive him home.” The girl looked suspicious. 

Roy shrugged and settled back in the chair. It was comfortable, though the atmosphere was not. “I did. We were texting, and he mentioned that he was at work. I heard that public transit had been shut down, so I decided to come to his rescue.” 

“You offered him a ride? That’s all?” 

Roy had expected some kind of third degree, for all the reasons this girl had outlined in Fat Bastards two weeks ago. Roy was older, and established. Ed was working his way thought university, and an unapologetic brat. Roy knew what it looked like, so he just shrugged again. He had nothing to hide. “That’s all.” 

“Then I guess you can’t explain why he looked so self-conscious when I mentioned that the power had gone out a little while ago.” 

Well. 

Maybe Roy did have something to hide. 

Not that what had happened was anything to be ashamed of. What it was, was _personal_. 

"Brother and I are very close, and Winry is our sister in every sense of the word except by blood," Al reassured, his voice sweet, and innocent, and as smooth as fine silk. "If you know of something that Ed might be uncomfortable about, we’d like to help. Perhaps it was something perfectly innocent. If only to set our minds at ease, would you please tell us what happened?" 

Except, Roy wouldn't. He wasn’t going to start blabbing Edward’s business, family or not. If Ed wanted these people to know what had been mistakenly interrupted in a darkened store and then rekindled in the storm driven snow he could tell them himself, so Roy answered without answering at all. 

"I can’t imagine what might have caused Ed to feel ill at ease; there isn’t really anything to tell,” Roy said, his demeanor thoughtful. “I showed up at the store, offered Ed a ride. He was being stubborn about it because that’s just the way he is, isn’t he?” Roy summoned up his most charmingly guileless smile. “The blackout is responsible for convincing Ed that going home was a better idea than spending the night at Pothos." Roy’s smile turned apologetic. "It’s unfortunate that my car died outside of your building after I dropped him off, but I’m grateful to be allowed into your home." 

Al’s gaze was sharp as a laser. "Did you kiss him?" 

Roy supressed his natural reaction – which would have included his jaw hitting the floor. He couldn't answer that. Instead, he smiled and told the complete truth. "If you're worried, don't be. I am not in the habit of taking advantage. I respect your brother, and he is safe with me." 

Winry was still watching him, frown still in place. Then she waved a dismissive hand. 

"You talk a good story, Mustang, that’s for sure,” she grudgingly admitted. “But is that all it is? A story? Hasn’t that cop friend of yours dug into Ed’s background, and never mind the sealed records? He probably told you all about him.” 

This girl was disturbingly in the know. "I’m sure my ‘cop friend’ has checked Ed out, yes,” given that Maes was just as protective of Roy as Ed’s friends were of him. 

"And he didn't tell you?" 

He shook his head. 

"About his childhood? About what happened to him in his first year at the university?" 

Roy shook his head to each question. 

"Aren't you curious?" Winry asked. 

"I am now," Roy admitted. "But we’re just beginning to know each other. There’s no rush.” 

"Why don't I tell you all about it?" Al suggested. “Right now?” 

That offer made Roy more uncomfortable than he had been during this whole interrogation. He shook his head. "No thank you.” A firm refusal. “I'd rather hear it from Edward if you don't mind, when he decides to share it, if ever.” Otherwise it would feel like going behind Ed’s back, like breaking a trust. 

And there was no way he would do that, no matter how much his curiosity burned for answers. 

He pushed those thoughts aside as Winry sat down in the armchair closest to Alphonse. She was wearing an odd smile that Roy had no idea how to interpret. 

“Hmm. Evasion. Misdirection. Outright rejection of freely offered information, which is unusual for a journalist. Is it an act? Hard to tell,” she muttered under her breath. 

Alphonse noticed Roy’s slight frown. “Don’t mind Winry,” he said, amber eyes sparkling. “She thinks out loud sometimes. I’m not sure if it’s a bad habit or a good one. Ed thinks it's some weird form of Tourette’s Syndrome. I think he’s being rude - because that’s just the way he is, isn’t he?” 

Roy didn’t miss his own words lobbed back to him. 

"So, you’re a journalist?" Al probed. "How long have you been doing that?" 

Roy's expression tightened. Edward’s brother or not, Roy was under no obligation to allow him to go burrowing through his life like it was a ball pit at the local MacDonald’s, and especially not this particular part of it. 

"Oh, a while." He smiled innocently. "I’m sure Ms. Anonymous here,” Roy jerked a thumb toward her, “can scare up the details for you.” He turned to her. “It appears that you like to investigate people," he said casually. "Have you been in the _business_ long?" 

The emphasis was subtle. It was complete guesswork on Roy’s part whether she was involved in anything illegal, but he was willing to gamble. If these two were half as sharp as he thought they were, they would hear what Roy was saying loud and clear. 

Back off. 

They were, and they did. The girl’s smile grew broad, and Alphonse’ eyes gleamed, delighted. 

"You know, I really think you might be okay, Mr. Mustang," Alphonse said. 

Before Roy could respond, the shit hit the fan. 

“Hey Al. Do you know where my robe is? It’s not hanging up in the-” 

Edward had stepped into the living room and froze. His hair was down, and wet. He was wearing a pair of flannel pajama pants, black, printed with small, gray medieval helmets, slug low on his hips. He had a towel over one shoulder. 

And that was all. 

Roy tried to keep his eyes on Edward’s. He really did. But his self control failed him, his eyes drawn by the wealth of golden hair tumbled over Ed’s strong shoulders. A bead of water shimmered a trail down his muscular upper body – 

And wound its way along the thick ridge of scar tissue that coiled across Ed’s chest and curved over his right shoulder. 

Whatever had caused that twisted, jagged wound had been sharp. It appeared as though something had tried to hack Ed’s arm off at the shoulder and had nearly succeeded. Roy continued to track the gleaming bead of water as it slid down, taking note of the twisted knots of further injury low on Edward’s midriff, a large, furrowed wound marring the left side of toned and tempered abdominals. Something large had stabbed deeply, and Roy suspected that Edward had been lucky to survive. 

“Car accident,” Ed said, voice a bit high. “My left leg is a mess too.” Roy thought his face looked a little pale. 

And Roy suddenly remembered the night he had walked into Pothos to find one of Ed’s former classmates attacking him, recalling how he had described Ed, saying that it looked as if Ed had fallen into a meatgrinder. 

Followed by, “Who’d want to fuck that?” 

Roy’s anger blazed all over again, but he pushed it aside. The ball was in his court and he had to take control. The look on Ed’s face, resignation mixed with something like hope, was a question that required a clear, unmistakeable answer. But words, however reassuring, would hold little power here. This situation demanded a grand gesture. Roy did the only thing he could think of that might set Edward’s mind completely at ease. 

He stood up and striped off his sweatshirt. 

The burn scar that covered a good portion of the left side of his abdomen and wrapped under his ribs was an ashen stain on pale flesh, thickened and glossy compared to the rest of his skin. Two dime-sized puncture wounds were the puckered focus of the injury, their cause driving the nightmares he still suffered. 

“Peace-keeping mission gone wrong,” Roy said. 

“Oh. Well. If we’re making ourselves comfortable,” Al said, and pulled off his cap to reveal a completely hairless head. He shrugged, beaming a perfectly cherubic smile. “Chemotherapy and radiation treatments.” 

That stalled any further talk. As a group, they were all at a loss as to where to take this from here. The only sound in the room was the muted howling of the storm outside the window. 

Winry came to the rescue. 

“Geez,” she huffed. Then she snatched up Roy’s shirt from where he’d dropped it and tossed it in his direction. “It’s cold in here. Put that back on,” she directed. “Ed. Your robe is in the laundry basket. It’s clean. Get it.” She scowled at Al. “If your hat is uncomfortable, leave it off.” She turned to glower at Roy. “Did we really need all this flexin over a bunch of battle scars? I swear, if you had your foreskin bronzed and keep in your wallet, I. Don’t. Want. To. Know.” She swung around and stomped into the kitchen. “I’m making hot chocolate. Don’t anyone try to stop me.” 

Nobody did. 

Roy put on his shirt and sat down. 

Ed left the room to fetch his robe and returned tying the belt. Roy kind of wished he hadn’t been able to find it. From what he had seen, Edward was _magnificent_. 

Alphonse put his hat on the back of the couch. 

“I’m really sorry Brother,” he said quietly. “We should have let you know that we had company. If I had known your bathrobe wasn’t . . .” 

“Don’t worry about it Al,” Ed told him, dropping into the armchair next to Roy's and propping his feet up on the coffee table. “He was bound to see the scars sooner of later.” 

Al covered his grin with a hand. Ed realized what he’d said and slouched deeper into his chair, pretending he never said it. Roy supressed a smirk. The cat settled into Al’s lap to purr contentedly. 

It wasn’t long before Winry returned with four steaming mugs of hot chocolate topped with a heap of spray-bottle whipped cream. She shoved Ed’s feet off the coffee table and set down the mugs before flopping into her chair. 

She glanced at Roy. “Are you always so extra?” 

Roy reached for his mug and thought it over. “Yes.” The hot chocolate was perfect, and he said so with a satisfied sigh. 

Ed was eyeing Roy and his friend suspiciously. “Do you two know each other?” he asked. 

“Not really,” Roy admitted. “Your friend confronted me in the parking lot at Pothos about two weeks ago. She gave me the shovel talk in Fat Bastard Burritos.” 

Winry looked somewhat embarrassed. “Yeah, about that. I may have misjudged you.” Then she extended an olive branch. “Winry Rockbell. Pleased to meet you.” 

“Rockbell?” Lights were coming on about her sources. “Any relation to-” 

“My grandmother is Pinako Rockbell.” 

Not many would be familiar with that name, but those who were would be suitably impressed, and Roy was one of them. Though in her seventies, Pinako Rockbell was a whitehat hacker of legendary prowess. The maverick daughter of an in-house programmer at IBM, she had started her dubious career hacking Ma Bell well before Unix was so much as a gleam in Ritchie’s and Thompson’s eyes. She was still going strong contracting as a penetration tester for corporations both big and small. Roy’s media company had used her on occasion, and their IT department practically worshiped her. 

It appeared that her granddaughter was following in her footsteps.

And now Roy was kind of afraid to ask what Alphonse was into. Whatever skillset might balance out a genius physicist and a talented hacker was sure to be terrifying. 

Edward certainly had an interesting, if intimidating family. 

All things considered, Roy decided that he rather liked them. 

“So.” Alphonse clasped his hands under his chin. “Why ‘Bastard’?” 

Or maybe the jury was still out.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Next one started. These things are really starting to feed off each other. 😊


End file.
